5. Vanessa
CHAPTER FIVE
VANESSA
Back home safe in my apartment, I hurry to get ready for my shift at the deli a few blocks away from my apartment. It’s not the most glamorous of jobs, but it helps me pay my rent and I get a free meal during my shift. Free food is always a win, especially for a broke college student.
As I throw my unruly hair up in a ponytail, staring at my reflection in the mirror, my mind drifts to the handsome biker I encountered.
I don’t get it. Why would Cupid waste his time on me?
He’s built like a brick house with a devious smile sure to melt the panties off any woman. Looking at my reflection, wearing my Deli Delights apron and visor, sans the makeup other than red lipstick, I am not seeing what drew that man to me.
Women must be throwing themselves at him. He surely has his pick of anyone.
Meanwhile, I can’t find a faithful guy in all of Colorado who wants to be with me. Granted, this biker may be as bad as all the rest of the dudes I’ve encountered, but deep in my heart, I hope he’s not—for whoever ends up with him.
It’s nice to imagine at least one lucky woman might have a gem like the man I hope he is.
To think he saw something in me he liked enough to chase after me for fifteen miles has my inner slut swooning.
As nervous as I was in the moment to have a one-percent biker following me, regardless of how hot he was, I can reflect and know with utter certainty he had no intentions of harming me.
He had plenty of opportunities to grab me while we were on 4th Street in Loveland if ill intentions were his endgame.
Yes, he got close, but oddly he wasn’t intrusive, not really. And when we encountered the Mercy Ravens MC, Cupid looked more concerned with my proximity to them than him being outnumbered. In the end, he told me to go, as if he wanted me away from the threat.
I hope he’s okay.
What is wrong with me? Why am I worried about a potentially dangerous man?
He is a stranger, like the literal definition of stranger danger.
I run my hands down my face, chastising myself.
I shouldn’t be dwelling on a man, one who chased me all the way home from Loveland, especially when I’m supposed to be in my no-man era. In fact, I should be more concerned about Cupid knowing my name.
How does he know me? I’ve never seen the man before, aside from at Buck’s Garage. Maybe he heard Buck say my name?
The more I think about it, the more I daydream about the hot as hell biker.
Those dark eyes probing every inch of me, watching me the entire time we raced down the interstate, are enough to make me weak. His voice was smooth, slipping inside me to caress me from the inside out. And his body…
I glance at the clock over my sink, deciding whether I have time.
Fuck it. I’ll make time. I’ll run to work if need be, but I’m sure it won’t take long, not with how wound up I am.
Hustling my ass, I cross the room toward my bed, opening my nightstand.
“Hello, Cupid,” I say with a giggle in my voice, taking out my pulsing vibrator.
Wasting no time, I untie my apron and slip out of my jeans. I lay across my bed, turning on my vibrator.
The first touch of the sex toy against my clit is enough to make me gasp. I’m usually not this stimulated, not without a ton of foreplay beforehand. Cupid certainly has an aphrodisiac effect on me, turning me into a needy mess.
I close my eyes, getting lost in the feeling. Images of Cupid flash through my mind. The way his devilish smirk made my heart stutter, like I were experiencing my first smile from a man. That mouth…I already know it would feel amazing between my legs.
My finger presses down on the speed button, knowing it won’t be long before I climax.
The pulse increases, toying with my clit, and all I can envision is what Cupid’s tongue would feel like. He would start off gentle and turn wild quickly, devouring me as if I were his last meal.
A wanton moan escapes my lips, bouncing off the ceiling. I grab my nipple through my clothes, getting lost in the fantasy of being manhandled by my dream biker.
Just as I’m about to peak, someone knocks at my door.
My eyes spring open, and I immediately snap back to reality. Someone better be dead for them to interrupt me from my month’s long dry spell.
Groaning, I turn off my vibrator and quickly dress. I walk to my door, peering out the peephole, and see nothing.
I crack my door open, peeking out into the hall. Nobody is in the hallway, but there is a small bouquet of red roses lying at the foot of my threshold.
“Boden,” I mutter, cursing him for denying me pleasure. I grab the flowers, shutting the door behind me, and toss them in the trash.
A quick glance at my clock alerts me I need to hightail it to work. I scramble to finish dressing, struggling to get my shoes on in my haste.
My pulsing vibrator taunts me from my bed.
“I’ll come back for you later,” I say under my breath, wishing I had time to wash it before leaving. It will have to wait.
To avoid being late, I jog the three blocks to the deli. By the time I arrive, I’m a sweaty mess and cranky. It gets worse when I walk inside and find Boden sitting in the booth, facing the entrance. He sees me immediately and rises from his seat to greet me.
“Vanessa Baby,” he half shouts excitedly, rushing toward me. “Did you like the flowers? I left them for you outside your door.”
Rolling my eyes, I sidestep around him to get behind the counter as fast as possible. I need a barrier between us. “You need to stop with the gifts. One, I don’t want them. And two, there’s nothing you can gift me that will erase what you did.”
Boden pouts. “I know I can’t make it up to you. What I did was awful.”
“Try disgusting,” I clip, tugging on my food-safe gloves. “You fucked some rando on my couch, Boden—my couch. Why not do it at your place? Did you want me to find you two together?”
“No,” he says, chastised. He looks around at the customers in the deli, his face turning red. He turns back to me. “Could we maybe not talk about this here?”
“We can do one better. We cannot talk at all. I opt for my choice,” I say flippantly. “Stop bothering me at work. Stop tracking me down on campus. And for the love of everything holy, stop leaving shit outside my apartment. It’s creepy.”
Before Boden can respond, I look to the next customer in line. “Welcome to Deli Delights. What can I get you today?”
Like a sulking child, Boden heads for the exit. He turns back to me, all droopy-faced, “I’ll never stop trying to win you back, Vanessa Baby.”
“Stop calling me that!” I snap, gripping the bread knife in my hand as if I might use it on Boden. “You lost the privilege to use it.”
Ignoring what’s good for him, Boden shakes his head. “I have lost nothing, especially not you.”
UGH! I’ve had enough.
“Fuck off already,” I holler across the deli at him, throwing a loaf of bread at his head and beaning him against the temple.
He gets the point, taking off like he’s afraid I’ll throw a chair next. The customers all clap, cheering for me and validating my outburst. I do a little curtsey behind the counter, making them all laugh.
“Vanessa?!”
Ah shit. I grimace, turning to face my manager like a kid caught misbehaving in front of a teacher.
George has his hands on his hips, giving me the stink eye. “How many times do I have to tell you not to throw bread at the customers?”
“First, I only throw bread at Boden. Second, he wasn’t a customer. He bought nothing.”
My manager shakes his head, turning to head back into his office. “That loaf of bread is getting docked from your pay.”
“Worth it,” I mutter under my breath, turning back to help the customers in line.